Scars
by escalus01
Summary: Nobody returns unscathed form such a traumatic event, nobody.


**Disclaimer: **I do not own Resident Evil.

**Scars**

Ashley woke with a start, springing up into a sitting position, throwing her covers aside, her mouth open in a silent scream. Every inch of her skin was covered in sweat and her breath came in short, ragged gasps. Her eyes were open as far as they would go and they scanned the room as though searching for some unseen enemy.

After around half a minute her breathing had returned to something resembling its normal pace; her eyes had stopped searching for the monsters in the dark and it dawned on her that she had been dreaming. A moment later she realized that during her panic her hand had snaked under her pillow and was grasping the Walther P99 that lay hidden there. With a deep breath she forced herself to release the weapon and brought both her hands to rest in her lap.

She turned her head to look at the clock on her bedside table and after pushing aside the book that was obscuring her view, groaned at the time displayed by its luminous hands. It was barely half-past three in the morning and she was not going to be able to go back to sleep; she never could after having _that_ dream. It was a dream she did not have very often anymore but when she did it never failed to make her sweat.

In the dream she had been back in that village only this time there had been no Leon and no-one else had come to save her. Instead she had been tortured, injected with that embryo and finally… finally she had succumbed. In this vision of a terrible alternate future that could have been she had been forced to watch, a prisoner in her own mind as against her will her body had obeyed every command that sick, old bastard had given it. She had watched as that son of a bitch had made her commit the most depraved acts and forced her to kill her family. Even the mere memory of that nightmare made her blood run cold and she could not prevent a small shiver.

After forcing all the memories (false or otherwise) out of her head, she realized that she was still sitting in the dark. Swinging her legs out of bed she rose to her feet and, ignoring the standing lamp by her bed, made straight for the light switch next to the door. As the light illuminated the bedroom of her apartment she went to stand before the full-length standing mirror in the far corner. She stared at her reflection for a handful of seconds before taking off the overly large white t-shirt she had worn to bed, leaving herself in nothing but her underwear.

Ashley spent a few moments examining her own body. She examined the scars that adorned it, scars that would never really fade and two that would always be noticeable. One was across her stomach where that blind monster in the dungeon of the castle had almost disemboweled her and the second was a circular one on her neck. These scars were mementos of an ordeal almost three years past and a reminder that despite the monsters and madmen, and with the help of a friend she had survived.

She saw a wry grin cross the face of her reflection and knew that before her kidnapping such an expression would have looked strange on her. Physically she was the same, same small build, same blonde hair, and same pale skin; it was her eyes that were different. They were still brown but were you to look deeper into them you would find that the naïve debutante was gone and in her place was a harder woman who had seen nightmares come to life. One girl had been taken and another had returned in her place, Saddler's plan, only not in the way he had envisioned. That last thought almost made her laugh.

Her parents had noticed the change in her, they would have to be blind not to. Sudden moves or loud noises from anyone made her jump and being in the same room as someone she did not know sent her pulse racing. For a month after her return she had refused to set foot outside and when she did start walking the streets again she always made sure she was carrying at least a can of pepper-spray. Eventually she had grown tired of being constantly afraid but had not known what to do about it.

Concerned, her parents had arranged for her to see a psychiatrist, in private of course, nobody wanted the media to know that the president's daughter was seeing a shrink. The doctor, in Ashley's opinion, had been a big waste of money. He had wasted no time in telling her that she was suffering from paranoia, she had actually figured that one out on her own thanks. It was only after hours of introspection on her own time that she had discovered that all her nightmares had focused on one thing - helplessness.

It had been shortly after this realization that she had first signed-up for self defense lessons and begun a new exercise regime. She had exercised regularly before but that had always been with the goal of making herself appealing to look at; now she had a different aim. The desire to appear attractive whilst still there, had taken a back seat.

Her return to the university had only served to emphasis the changes that had taken place within her. Conversations with her old friends about clothes, make-up and boys all seemed far less important than they used to, they seemed almost trivial. They were still interesting but far from the life or death decisions that the other girls made them out to be.

As for the boys themselves, most of them now seemed immature and she could now see right past the charming, false smiles. She could see most of them undressing her in their minds and how their eyes would linger on her body a little too long.

In social situations, like parties, she felt a little out of place even though she had calmed down quite a lot since her initial return. Unlike before now she would never drink more than she knew she could handle and still keep a reasonably clear head. She found that the first thing she did when entering a room was look for potential escape routes and that she was far more aware of her surroundings than she used to be. Maybe a little more paranoid than was healthy but then again it had helped her escape more than a few awkward moments and pointless confrontations.

She had not bought the gun until after moving in by herself, and she had not told her parents about it either. As far as she was concerned there was no need to freak them out more than was absolutely necessary.

She came out of her reverie and glanced back at the clock next to her bed, only to find her self-examination had last over a quarter of an hour. With a final glance over her reflection she bent down, scooped up her t-shirt and shrugged it back on before walking back over to her bed. Lying comfortably on top of the sheets she turned to the bedside table and picked up her book. It was "The Gunslinger" by Stephen King, not a story she ever would have considered once-upon-a-time. However the novels she had once read, novels like "Emma" or maybe "Lucky", seemed to have lost a great part of their appeal. Not to mention the vapid, stupid heroines reminded her of a version of herself that she would rather forget.

Laying her head on her pillow she flicked forward to the page she had dog-eared and began to read.

* * *

Okay, this story came to me when I realised that no body could go through what Ashley went through and remain the same, the experience had to have changed her on some level so here is my interpretation of that idea. However I think I may have taken it a little too far, if you think so too please do not hesitate to say if you review. One final thing is the rating okay?

As always constructive criticism is welcome, please read and review.


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